Grab A Friend
by Lolsome-o-sis girl
Summary: [AU; Subtle Jack/Rose; Based on a Tumblr Prompt] Rose is alone in a cafe on Valentines Day, but the day takes a turn for the better when she makes a new friend.


**Grab A Friend**

_Fandom: Titanic_

_Rating: T_

_Genre: Friendship, Romance_

_Pairing: Subtle Jack/Rose; mentions of previous Cal/Rose_

_Word count: 1105_

_Summary: __[Based on a Tumblr Prompt] __Rose is alone in a cafe on Valentines Day, but the day takes a turn for the better when she makes a new friend. Subtle Jack/Rose AU ONESHOT._

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**AN: I saw this prompt and was in the mood to write some modern Jack/Rose today, hence this. It was fun. Hope you all enjoy. Rated T because of language.**

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**DISCLAIMER. I do not own Titanic. I don't know who owns the White Star line now, but that isn't me either. All I own is a pile of homework **

**and revision for my A Levels.**

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**Prompt:** _Imagine Person A of your OTP sitting in a café on Valentines day, alone. Person B sees them, and, feeling bad for them, decides to sit at the same table as Person A and talk with them._

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Three hours she'd been sitting there.

Three tedious, pointless, wasted hours.

Rose's head slid further down her palm, until her chin was resting on the checked tablecloth in front of her. Three _fucking_ hours she'd been waiting for Cal to show up, and the man was no where to be seen. It wasn't like they had a date tonight or anything - no, this was supposed to be the day when she was _dumping_ him - but, even then, he couldn't be bothered to show his face for five minutes. And on Valentine's Day too. He couldn't even begrudge her this bit of decency on _Valentines Day_. He hadn't even been bothered to send her a text, for crying out loud.

She absentmindedly picked up the fork beside her empty place mat, and twirled it experimentally. How long would it take her to murder someone with this item? (The someone being Cal, of course.) At least she could hide the evidence if she did so. No one would suspect the murder weapon to be a fork from the White Star cafe.

"Don't do it."

Startled, Rose raised her head from the table. "Don't do what?"

The young man in front of her nodded towards the piece of cutlery in her hand. "Skewer yourself with a fork. It won't work."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It's sharp enough for me to skewer myself, isn't it?" She speared one of her fingers with the prongs of the fork to prove her point and then regretted it, massaging the tiny marks left in her skin to try and get rid of the pain. "I'm plotting someone else's murder, anyway, not my own."

"Oh, yeah?" He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, placing his sketchbook on the table in front of him. "Whose?"

"Boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, really." She let out a sigh, sitting up straight in her chair and pushing loose strands of her hair out of her eyes. "I was supposed to break up with him today - you know, in case he hadn't already got the message that it was over. But, as you can see, he never showed up."

The man's brow furrowed. "He sounds like a jerk."

Rose nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it. We've known each other since we were both kids, and, let me tell you, he hasn't changed a bit." She dragged a hand across her eyes. Three hours worth of aimlessly waiting for her not-boyfriend to show up was taking its toll on her. And she was hungry. Starving, in fact; when was the last time she'd eaten? She must have looked it, because the man opposite her was studying her face in concern.

"You look like you need something to eat. Here -" He stood from his seat and quickly crossed the cafe. Rose watched as he said something to the person working the cash register, and returned to their table a few moments later, carrying a tray with two glasses and a sandwich on.

"I hope you like cheese," he said, setting the sandwich and one of the glasses down beside her. "Sorry it's just lemonade and not anything alcoholic. The White Star cafe has its limitations, after all."

"It's fine. Thank you." Rose nibbled at a piece of the sandwich. "I hope this didn't cost much -"

"Ah, don't worry about it." He gave her an easy smile. "Staff discount."

"You work here?"

"I do the odd shift here and there. I know the man who owns this place. He begrudges me a pay check once in a while, when I'm not drawing."

"You're an artist?" Rose looked interested, taking a larger bite of the sandwich now that her appetite was tempted with the promise of food.

He pushed his sketchbook towards her. "Yeah." Curious, Rose brushed the crumbs from her fingers, and proceeded to flip through the pages of intricate pencilled sketches.

"These are rather good," she mused. "They're very good, actually...In fact, they're _better_ than very good. This is exquisite work."

He shrugged, grinning. "Ah, they didn't think too much of them in Ol' Paree."

"Paris? You do get around." Rose smiled as she turned another page in the book. "I've always wanted to see Paris. My father told me that he'd take me one day, but he died before we had the chance to go." A note of sadness filled her voice. "Mother never approved of the plans. She'd rather I stay at home and become a _proper young lady_." She pulled a disgusted face at the words her mother had used. "She's the only reason I was ever with Cal in the first place -" She stopped suddenly, realising that her companion was looking at her. What was she thinking? Why was she spewing out details about her personal life to a total stranger, who, quite frankly, probably didn't care whether or not her mother had pushed her into a relationship? "Sorry. I know you most likely don't want to hear all about my personal problems."

"Hey, don't worry about it."

"It's just, you know, I haven't really...I haven't really got many friends to talk to," Rose admitted quickly. _Make that no friends I can talk to_, she added silently. The people who attended all the various dinners and gatherings that her mother took her to weren't exactly what one would class as trustworthy friends.

"Well, that's alright." The man's smile was back on his face. "I'll be your friend. Then you'll always have someone to talk to."

Rose's own mouth turned up into a smile. "I'd like that."

He held out a hand for her to shake. "Jack Dawson."

"Rose Dewitt Bukater."

"I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down."

"Fair enough." She reached for one of the napkins still left on the tray, and scribbled a wonky version of her name and phone number - mainly because she was still shaking his hand. "There. We'll do this again sometime."

"At least this time I'll be able to remember your name."

"It _is_ a long name," Rose agreed, rising from her seat. "Well, Jack - Mr Dawson - it's been a pleasure."

"Sure has." He glanced down at their shaking hands, and, after a few moments, glanced back up at her. "I thought you were leaving."

"I am!" She finally dropped her hold on his hand and stuffed her own hands into her pockets. "I shall see you soon."

Jack grinned at her as she tucked her chair under the table and made her way towards the door of the cafe. "Looking forward to it."

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**Jack and Rose are just adorable :). 'Nuff said.**


End file.
